For a friend who left the closet

Hello mother, I must confess; I’ve been living a life of lies. You and I are not the same; my words your test of sorrow.

We travel different roads to home; my path is full of thorns. But at day’s end, you shall see, you’re still my air and water.

Under pride anger weeps, a hidden pain unshaken. In rainbow’s grey, a song is made, a shower of cold bleached water.

You’ve suspected many years, the truth I couldn’t tell. In knots of shame you bound me, in ancient verse and rhyme.

Of butter and bread I know you love, but my heart cannot lie. The beauty of silver and broken glass, of one like ink and paper

I care not for differences, but for sameness I would die. For ice and tea becomes an art, a melding of perfection.

Here you say we’re lost. Your forgiveness seeks my sorrow, in our view it’s simple, your world’s confused, not mine.

My heart unchanged; a match seeks wood, the fired forges burn paper. A truth is born today of rage and warm, calming waters.

Of hypocrites and unholy men, who sit on thrones and speak of sin, their words are empty vessels.

To place a fault upon yourself for blue sky is folly. My love for you is ever strong, in patience solace bows.


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